Musings, Poet Among Other Things

Awareness

Last week I opened my email to find that one of my pieces had been selected as the winner of a poetry contest I had all but forgotten that I had submitted to. (Again, actual content is forthcoming, I have two drafts in the hopper at the moment)

My heart is filled with churning emotion
I don’t understand
A longing
A drawing
She’s calling to me
I must answer
Frantically I search for–
What?
Wandering among her branches and leaves
Finding a place of rest
The air is cold everywhere but here
My body is weak and tired
I lie down

Everywhere my back meets her surface
A warmth surges through me
Her grasses hide my face
Invisible to all but the lights above
And those lights
They sparkle and crackle
They whisper secrets

Faraway lands, they sing of
Lands of light and color
Where lights and sound swirls together
In an ethereal dance
I long to see those lands
A drop slips down my face
“Let me catch it!” a light cries
It leaps from its dark home to mine

I feel arms wrapping around me
Invisible bands holding me down
Not just my limbs
My every fiber becomes part of her
I can feel the pulse of my every cell
The air rush and fill every corner of my lungs
My mind, firing and processing
Then I become aware of her

I feel her move beneath my skin
The rotation that lasts beyond memory
Speed unimaginable
She has seen so much
She knows every secret
We commune and she tells her stories
Every foot that has passed over this spot
Every paw that ever will
She tells me her hopes and dreams
Her pain and woes
We share burdens and they lighten
I spread my hands and feel her surface
Intertwining my fingers in hers
Touching one so old and infinitely finite

The parliament across the meadow begins
They call to each other and to me
Asking probing questions
“Who, who?”
“I am Earth.” I respond
“How, how?”
“We are One.” I reply

Poet Among Other Things

Contest Blame

Perhaps I’ll have an actual post eventually. For now, life is busy; school has started again and I’m heavily involved with some campus organizations doing great things, I’m working through some things and learning a lot about myself. I was reading through some old journal entries tonight and found this from a few weeks ago. The things you think of in the shower…

Contest; v. to argue against, dispute, call into question

Up far into the night
Try to sort through my heart
Try to still it’s restless churning
Still it doesn’t make sense
Though I try as I might
My whole soul feels as though it is burning

I lay out the pieces
Connect all the dots
Fit together a past for myself
It looks broken and shattered
And I bleed where it cuts
Is this really what’s best for my health

And how can I move on
I don’t know what is real
Scars as invisible as they are deep
But they still mar my soul
Break what’s left of my heart
Lose my mind as I also lose sleep

They shouldn’t still sting
It was all in your head
Says the shrill voice as it tries to shame me
Says my feelings aren’t real
Wrong for this reason or that
Causing more hurt with all of it’s blaming

It’s alright to hurt
It’s alright to feel
That sharp, impish voice is a lie
Sure some have it better
And some have it worse
But pain isn’t a race
You don’t have to be first

Memories; a life I left
I can’t remain the same
I must move on
Accept myself
Stop trying to place the blame

Poet Among Other Things

Mine

You know how one of the favorite social media stereotypes to pick on is that person that posts cryptic things like “I’m so done”? That phrase and others like it don’t necessarily mean “I want to complain, someone ask me what’s wrong;” Sometimes they mean “I’m done fighting” or “I’m done letting things slide.” This is one of the latter.

Mine

You tell me I’m yours
That I will be forever
No one can love me like you do
You say you won’t leave me
That you’ll always be there
Nothing I do could make you go

You say I am strong
Having fought for so long
And you’re proud to say that I’m yours
But that’s not how it goes
You’ve been part of the throes
In the tumultuous life that I’ve lived

And I’m done now
I’m cutting you off
I don’t want your pride
And I don’t want your joy
Don’t want anymore claims of “you’re mine”
‘Cause I’ve been yours for too long
You’ll look up and I’m gone
You don’t get any say
‘Cause I’m mine

I’ve been owned for so long now
Heard your sickly sweet words
Can’t tell what thoughts are yours or what’s mine
Made me do what you want
Think the action was mine
Now I can’t even trust my own mind

You say it’s all in the past
Manipulations don’t last
Then you promptly tell me what to do
You say I’ll make you sad
If I don’t listen and act
But emotions won’t help you this time

‘Cause I’m done now
I’m cutting you off
Why are your thoughts more important than mine?
I’m done being controlled
Now I’m actually bold
And I’m leaving you now
‘Cause I’m mine

I’ll figure out who I am
Don’t need help from a man
I don’t need to be told
‘Cause I’m mine

You can cry all you want
Say I’m pulling a stunt
It won’t do any good
‘Cause I’m mine

Musings, Poet Among Other Things

Love and Freedom

I wrote this months ago, but given the national legalisation of same-sex marriage, it seems apropos to share now. I’m learning that, as a creative person, sometimes you make something, and you love it and are satisfied with it, but just can’t share it. It’s not that it isn’t ready, but that the environment isn’t ready. And that’s ok. It doesn’t mean that the art isn’t good, it just means that the time isn’t right.

Love?

What do you know of love?

You claim it as your Cornerstone

But have you looked at your foundation?

How can you claim to know loverainbowconverseverticle

When you spew death and hell?

All I have to do is say Yes

If you say No I am condemned

You say it is my actions, not me

But you do not see

My actions are part of who I am

My person caused my actions

 

You say you know love

You say what I know isn’t love

How can you tell me what love is?

Describe it to me

How can you know that isn’t what I feel?

You see an outer image

How can you look at one

And say, that is love?

But look at me and condemn

 

You say you know love

Are you patient, kind, just?

You want hard answers

I must define myself for eternity

Do you boast?

Is not your claim boastful?

To know the only love

Your list of perceived wrongs

It chokes the Life from me

 

You claim to see love

But your robe covers your eyes

Your tassels choke your words

You have cut off your own wings

 

And you claim to know love

Worse still

You claim Love has done this

That love left you torn

Beaten and bruised

 

You say you are not weighed down

That you are now made free

But how free is it to struggle?

To act without thought

To ride the wind

To speak the Voice of Ages

To love as seems fit

This is Freedom

Books and Movies, Musings, Pictures, Poet Among Other Things

Hello, It’s Mz. Hyde

Better be scared, better be afraid,
Now that the beast is out of her cage

It’s not clean. They aren’t family friendly in the least. Most of the songs are about sex, whether explicitly or implicitly. The lyrics are full of obscenities. But there’s more to it than that. Sometimes you have to look past the obvious to see the true meaning of art.

One of my current favorite bands is Halestorm. I discovered and promptly fell in love with Lzzy Hale’s voice last year when she sang Lindsey Stirling’s Shatter Me. She has this powerful, gravely, but somehow still smooth voice that I haven’t found anywhere else. The band’s lyrics bothered me for a while. Stuff like, “I miss the bad things, the way you hate me, I miss the screaming, the way that you blame me.” This isn’t a healthy relationship. That song, and others, talk about rough break up sex and other “questionable activities”. But there’s an underlying theme, even in the most sexually charged songs.

But I won’t run
I’m not afraid
I’ll look em in the eye
Gonna hear me say
It’s
My life
My love
My sex
My drug
My lust
My god it ain’t no sin
Can I get it
Can I get an Amen
My grace
My church
My pain
My tears
My hurt
My god, I’ll say it again
Can I get it
Can I get an Amen

Much of Halestorm’s music is about accepting yourself and not giving a damn what others think of you. Having grown up in an environment where even my body wasn’t my own, this is something I’m having to learn in my 20s. I’m learning to own my identity, my beliefs, and my past. “I Miss the Misery,” mentioned above, is about getting out of an abusive relationship, and the twisted reality of missing the pain. While I’ve never been in a romantic relationship, I still strongly relate to the notion of missing abuse. Life is much simpler as a robot without a soul. There are times when all I want is to be back in the culture where I was manipulated, controlled and brainwashed. I’m free now. And I’m working on freeing my mind. I’m making new friends who are more diverse and accepting. I’ve learned a lot from them; like the fact that it’s ok to have very different styles from day to day.

CAM01920[1]Hello it’s Mz. Hyde!CAM01913[1]

I can be the bitch,
I can play the whore,
Or your fairytale princess, who could ask for more?

This deeply bothers a lot people. When you present your self in different ways every day, it confuses them. “I had you pinned as a nerd! What are you doing wearing Birkenstocks and a flower chain? How do I fix your obvious lack of connection to reality when you are dancing barefoot through the forest?” They don’t like to have to think about who you are more than once: the first time they meet you and make a snap judgement. After that, they like to be able to worry about correcting what they saw wrong with you.

When I first wore a black leather vest to school several people asked why I was dressed like a biker. I told them I was dressed like me, how I felt that day. I love this outfit. The tight leather vest, single dangling earring, and black ankle boots make me feel confident and daring. Some days I feel like visually representing the dragon part of me.

But there’s a lot more to me than black clothes and leather, and sometimes I feel like visually representing that side of me. I love my pink stripey tank top, knee high star socks and light grey converse. People are usually amused by this outfit. There are several colors and patterns going on at once. It makes me feel fun and quirky. I wear that on pegasus days.

Bands have songs. Good bands have lots of different songs. One may be about feeling good about yourself and another may be about having the worst day ever, but it’s the same band. People are like that too. They may look and act one way some days and be very different others, but they’re the same person. If you pay attention and get to know them you’ll probably find that those differences are actually kind of similar. My two outfits for instance. One is a dragon and the other is a pegasus. One has skin and scales and the other has fur and feathers, but both creatures have wings. Both are me. I’m also me when I just wear a t-shirt and jeans. Some day I may find another creature that suits me also, and I may eventually not identify with any of them. I’m learning to love and accept this about myself and my new friends. Maybe that makes us freaks, but we’re in good company, and I bet we’re happier than you.

So shout if you’re a freak like me,
You were born to burn,
This is no disease you don’t need a cure!
It’s our time now to come out!

If you’re a freak like me
Are you a freak like me?

Books and Movies, Musings, Poet Among Other Things

Saying “No” Isn’t Weak

Volumes of Rows is the only story I’ve ever finished, and I only finished it because it had to get out of my head. I came up with it as I was shelving in the library one day. Have you ever compressed a stack of paper and then let it go really fast? It makes this ominous creak that almost sounds like breathing. Now, our library isn’t all that large, so I knew I was nearly always in sight of the circulation desk, were something to happen. But what if I was alone? What if that creak actually was the books coming to life, but since someone can always see them, they can’t move? I came home that day and wrote down what played out in my head. The next week I had a gut check when I noticed that someone had left the large quilt book out.

After I finished trying to trip my sister, Meg, as she was learning to walk, I decided to torture her by other means. I attempted to convince her that aliens were going to come in our nearly two story high window, turn her brains to oatmeal and eat them with a straw. Now Meg, being very level headed and logical, had no reason to believe in aliens. I, on the other hand… have always had a very vivid imagination. I convinced myself of what I failed to convince my sister.

LimitsFor the past two years I have spent the weekends of October working at a corn maze. If you’ve ever been to a corn maze, you probably realise that there is a lot more to the attraction than a maze of maize. This particular maze features several rides and playthings, including a fairly tall zip-line. This year I worked the top of the line. I will admit, I wouldn’t have ridden this thing when I was little. I’ve never liked heights. As you can probably imagine, there were a lot of kids who would take one look and opt for the much shorter version. Most of the time the parents would suggest that they try the big line anyway. I loved it when a child who was scared at first grew to love the ride. You enjoy something so much more when you work for it. Seeing children overcoming obstacles is one of my favorite things. There’s a nearly visible shine on their faces.

Then there were the Shamers. The parents who would say some variation of “Don’t be a baby,” “He’s braver than you are,” or “Don’t be a sissy.” Some of these kids would eventually give in to their parents jeering. But some didn’t, and I applaud them all. The ones who did try because they faced their fears and the ones who didn’t because they took a stand. They didn’t give into name calling and pressuring. They ruled themselves and made their own decisions, even when those decisions weren’t popular. They set limits they were comfortable with. They had the strength to say “no.” Of course, they may later regret not riding. But, that’s part of growing up and making choices. You can allow yourself to be haunted by the Might’aves and the Should’aves, or you can learn from the experience.

My mind can be an eerie place. Because of this I have to be careful about reading or watching paranormal sci-fi or horror. If I give it the wrong encouragement, my imagination will run rampant and I can quickly lose control. There are times when I prefer movies to books, simply because my mind isn’t confined to a screen like a film is. I miss out on some things because I don’t enjoy certain types of entertainment. But I’m ok with that. To live a healthy life, you have to recognise your limits.

Poet Among Other Things

C’est La Vie

“I wish it were socially acceptable for adults to climb trees.” I just laughed and picked another burr off my backpack. “Last time I called Annie she almost fell out of her tree.”

C’est La Vie8a28535d4ee76de8d25a942a5daddfb8

Have you ever noticed
The smell of Autumn?
The scent of fallen leaves
Warmed by the sun
It’s warm, yet, is the smell of death
It’s sweet, yet,is the smell of mold
How sweet and warm is the start of death and cold

Have you ever realized
That leaves have never touched the dirt?
They grow from the earth
Yet if you catch them mid-flight
They will never meet it
It’s life begins in the canopy
Never greeting it’s true mother

Have you ever heard
The noise of a windless forest?
When the crickets and birds still sing
And the leaves still lose their grip
And the squirrels still skitter up bark
And the trees still whisper
And the shadows still dance

Have you ever sat perfectly still
Long enough for the wood to take you back?
The become a part of nature again
Feeling the pulsing of life
In the roaring quiet of the trees
Feeling the breath of a curious creature
Drawing power from a tree branch
A tree bearing weight at last
Pulling warm Joy from the Sun

This is Life
Gales of silence
Beautiful death
Forever changing
Nothing is as it seems